return to The City, part 1: The Underworld

The buildings stretched so high into the air that sunrise was delayed for at least an hour, their towering height blocking the bright rays from the city below. Not that it really matters. The city doesn’t know what sleep is anyway.

I was kicked out of a hotel room that I didn’t pay for at 4:30 am. Had I known this was going to happen, I never would have stumbled into a cab and let it take me there in the first place. After drinking since 2 pm, it was amazing that I was still standing, so successfully sneaking past the doorman and on to the 7th floor of this seedy downtown Tokyo hotel where my friend was sleeping would have been a miracle.

Miracles don’t happen. Not in this city.

He sent me away, out to the streets stained with urine and vomit of all those who trekked down them earlier. To the streets where the strippers were just getting off work, looking for a drink and a smoke and the whores form Vietnam were just getting started at making their buck, preying on wanderers like me. From way down here, at the bottom, underneath the fingernails of this city, like dirt and grime from long days past, I ventured out. The sky, what I could see of it, was thousands of miles away. The one thing that could save me was sunshine and it was nowhere to be found.

The familiar rubble of trains zooming past every two minutes was absent. They don’t run this late into the night. As I walked down the narrow road, between the hostess bars and stripclubs and convenience stores and love hotels, I had nowhere in particular to go and absolutely no idea where I was. Somewhere in Tokyo, in a very dirty part of town. I headed towards what appeared to be the train station. Thought I might as well be nearby when the lines open up again.

Hours ago I was drowning in the depths of a day-long bender. When you pay 3,500 yen for an all-you-can drink pass to the Great Japan Beer Festival and spend from 2 to 7 PM steadily boosting the blood alcohol content to dangerous levels, it’s only natural to get a little tanked. Drinks with dinner and cocktails at the club later on kept the buzz going for most of the day, but now, when the dew of a new morning would cover the grass and flowers if there were any, I could feel the purgatorial headache closing in and my eyes were heavy with sleep and exhaustion.

New York is notorious for its pigeons. They flock en mass, eating everything in sight, probably outnumbering the population of the city itself. I didn’t see any pigeons in Tokyo. But the crows hobbling down these dirty streets are massive and horrifying. Fuckers are the size of large cats, with beaks long as carrots and sharp as their razor-like talons that click-clack on the pavement as they scavenge and shit, vying for their existence.

I wanted to avoid these foul beasts at all cost.

Stepping over garbage and excrement, I cut through an alley and escaped the terrible black birds. I came to a tunnel, a pedestrian underpass. Drunk Japanese men staggered through it, some of them towing women behind them as they tried to keep pace in their ridiculous high heels. There was a lone girl leaning up against the wall, listening to a man play a guitar. I walked over and leaned against the wall next to her, not saying anything, really not having anything to say. The man with the guitar sang well, though he sounded drained, probably from having been there all night. I grew tired of standing and slid down the wall, hitting pavement and feeling relaxed for the first time in hours. The man finished his song and looked at me, acknowledging my paying attention to his music. We were together in this moment, both trooping through the night, fighting exhaustion.

He said this would be his last song. Mustering energy that must have come from the bottom of his heart, he fought back the sleep and fatigue and belted out an old pop song that was popular in Japan in the 1960s, his voice was carried by the powerful major chords and magnified by the by the thick stone walls.

The girl and I sat there, listening.

When the song finished, I told the guy he did a good job. I asked him the name of the song he played, but I’ve already forgotten what he said. He told me goodnight as he packed up his guitar. He stood up and walked out, the girl following behind. I will never see them again.

I stood up, wearily, and kept on walking down the tunnel. When I emerged, the sky was a little brighter. A new day was almost here and I would soon be able to put this one behind me.

But first sleep was necessary. I really didn’t have a choice, I could feel my legs growing weak and my eyes begging me to keep them closed. I stumbled upon a pavilion. A homeless man was sleeping in the bushes under a cardboard box. Another lie a few yards away. They didn’t notice me when I sat down on a bench nearby. Every so often a person or two would walk past. By this point it was nearly impossible to keep my eyes open. I said to myself, Fuck it. These guys can sleep here. So can I. I stood up and walked behind the bench, and lied down on the ground. I fell asleep instantly.

When I woke up the homeless men had gone and I was covered with ants.

Unfortunately, only two and a half hours had passed.

My neck hurt from sleeping on my backpack. My head hurt from all the booze.

I got up and stretched out my back and limbs and started walking. It was 7:30. The trains were running again. Heading towards the station, I walked past a McDonald's. It had just opened. I’ve never been happier to see a McDonald's in my life. I went inside, hoping to get food and maybe a little more sleep. Ordered some sort of cheese & egg bagel sandwich with coffee and hash browns. I ate and drank the coffee. Then went into the bathroom to poop. In Japan, even in McDonald's the toilets are nice; the kind that have heated seats and bidets and sprayers and all the bells and whistles.

I started to line the seats with toilet paper. Then I stopped.

You fool! I thought to myself, quit being such a dumbass. You just slept on the filthy ground next to homeless people. What the hell are you doing lining the seats with toilet paper? I abandoned the project and sat down, my bare ass against the heated seat.

Afterwards I changed shirts and washed my hands and face and brushed my teeth and was ready to start a new day in the metropolis.

This blog needs more photos